


Spa Day

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: G1 in modern times, Gen, Science Bros, Self Insert Weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weekly science bros meeting for the win!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spa Day

                “Newest JAVMA*?”

                I startled at the voice practically in my ear, sitting bolt upright from my chair and nearly toppling it as I did so.

                “Oh my God, ‘Jack!” I gasped, putting a hand on my chest over my rapidly beating heart. I glared over my shoulder at the mech currently looking very sheepish despite the blast mask still being up. “I thought Prowl was supposed to be the quiet one!”

                “He just had his maintenance yesterday,” Ratchet interjected with a snort. “He better not be making any squeaks or clanging; not if he knows what’s good for him.”

                The medic didn’t move from his lounge on the couch, data pad held firmly in his hand as he stared meaningfully at his best friend over the top edge of the device.

                “I would never think to damage your hard work, Ratch,” Wheeljack said in a reassuring manner as he moved around the table my traveling habsuite sat upon.

                “Uh huh. Sure you wouldn’t,” Ratchet muttered, turning his attention back to his reading. 

                “Sorry ‘bout that, FP,” Wheeljack said as he bent down to peer at me. His optics practically shone with earnestness, and I instantly forgave him. It was easy to; Wheeljack didn’t’ have a mean bone, er, strut in his body. “Ratchet does good work – I _am_ running pretty silent right now. How about I make it up to you? Hot stone therapy?”

                “You do that, I won’t be reading for very long,” I said, but I was already leaping out of my chair. I grabbed the quilt lying on the loveseat before practically flying onto Wheeljack’s outstretched hand.

                “Well, we only designated this as quiet time, not necessarily reading time,” Wheeljack pointed out. Nevertheless, it was generally what everyone did during this period the more scientifically inclined mechs had set aside for any who could make it on a weekly basis. That or engage in cheerful debate about some topic or another.

                “True. Anyone else coming today?” I asked, holding onto the barrier Wheeljack’s thumb made against the twenty foot drop to the floor.

                “Skyfire’s in a delivery run and Perceptor looked dead to the world when I peeked in on him. Pretty sure he’s been up the past four days straight,” Wheeljack explained. “Everyone else is on shift.”

                Ratchet’s engine rumbled angrily at the news regarding Perceptor. I watched as his fingers twitched against his data pad and ducked my head to hide the smile. I had a feeling the scientist would be getting a lecture from Ratchet when he emerged from recharge.

                “Just us today old buddy, old pal!” Wheeljack said, carefully sitting down next to the medic and holding me close to his chestplate to prevent much jostling. “Us and the squish.”

                “That is a horrible term,” Ratchet said, making a face and watching as Wheeljack let me step off his hand onto a dark gray thigh.

                “Yeah, but it’s true,” I pointed out, kneeling and smoothing out the quilt. I gracelessly flopped to my belly once the material was laid out to my satisfaction. “Squeeze me too hard, and I pop.”

                I spread open my journal in front of me, but otherwise ignored it. Instead I laid my head down on folded arms and peered up at Ratchet. My feet crossed at the ankles and started idly swaying back and forth.

                “Yes, well, I’d like to avoid that if possible,” Ratchet said absently as Wheeljack lowered one hand to hover over me. Two fingers were placed squarely over the center of my back, and I let my legs drop to Wheeljack’s plating with hollow sounding ‘thunk’. A soothing warmth immediately spread from the points of contact. “What are you doing?”

                “Mmmm… hot stone massage. Except, you know, without the stones,” I explained in a groaned slur, my eyelids fluttering as the fingers began to move in little circles. Oh, that was _divine_.

                “Fascinating…” Ratchet murmured. I felt the cool wash of tingly sensation which signaled one of Ratchet’s scans and grinned a little. Apparently I was more interesting than whatever Ratchet had been reading. “Your endorphin and serotonin levels just spiked. I had read there was a long list of benefits of massage in humans.”

                “Plus she makes funny sounds,” Wheeljack added cheerfully.

 

~ End

               

**Author's Note:**

> *JAVMA - Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association
> 
> If I entered the Transformers world, I would totally enjoy being a 'pet'. I would demand all the clever fingers (I was reincarnated from a cat, I swear).
> 
> Also, I'm sure some of you are like, 'hey, Fuzi, how come you didn't interact with your favorite Twins?' To be honest, I think Sunstreaker would dislike me on sheer principle of my species and Sideswipe would find me boring after about 5 minutes. I would realistically get together a lot better with Ratchet or Wheeljack because we would actually have something to talk about.


End file.
